


Spaceman

by kinpika



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:05:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name may have been lost, but the memory of him remained.</p><p>Leaps and bounds, through time and space, made the heart grow fonder, and a little bit wiser.</p><p>
  <b>ON HOLD</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaceman

Inigo sat by the flap of their tent, watching the sun rise. Rays of light were cast over him second by second, a slow filter of warmth that edged away the cold out of his skin. Simply opting to close his eyes as he held the blanket around him closer, Inigo basked in the warmth, still such an odd sensation even nearly two years after leaving _that_ _place_. It would be a wonder if he would ever get used to the feeling of heat running to the tips of his toes, no longer having to wade through muck and rain. 

With a yawn, Inigo let his chin drop to his chest. Even here, he could sleep, an attempt to let the night’s activities melt away. Granted, he would rather do so in bed, beside his wife, but like every other night, he had been pushed aside in favour of a pillow. Huffing a laugh, Inigo opens his eyes once more at the thought. That would take some effort to get used too — the absence of a body beside him, of groggy _good morning_ ’s and coaxing into bed. Tea here, kiss there, someone to return home to. 

Whilst he had not told her yet, Inigo had no doubt that Robin knew. If it were any other time, he could pin it to her wily ways as the tactician for Lord Chrom’s army, far too aware of everything around her. But, there was no longer the threat of an angry god, no madman at the gates, just the two of them travelling for a time. Inigo was not blind in the direction they were heading either, but had felt no need to comment. 

Something akin to a groan comes from inside, and Inigo laughs louder this time. Leaning inside the flap just enough, Inigo watches the mass beneath their sheets rumble and roll, before a foot is visible, followed by a leg, a hip, the curve of a waist. “Good morning,” he sings, as a fantastic mess of bed hair makes itself apparent.

Eventually, Robin pushes herself up, sitting and swaying. Pooling around her hips were the blankets, and the night’s activities were starting to appear as bruises along her skin. “Inigo,” she finally says, voice thick with sleep and that accent he could never quite place, “what time is it?”

“It’s early,” he laughs, and finally stands, holding as much of the blanket around him as he can be bothered too. Walking over, he stops only at the edge of the sheets to squat down. There, he reaches out, hand attempting to smooth what hair he could tame away from her face. 

“That makes sense. You’re always like this when it’s early.” A sigh, but Robin catches his hand against her cheek, holding him there as she leans into the embrace. Tilting her head, her lips brush his palm, and he almost doesn’t want to leave anymore than he already didn’t.

“Am not,” he retorts, crawling closer.

“Are too.”

They meet halfway, not so much a kiss but just a closeness, with dragged out whispers that mean nothing in particular. Inigo doesn’t want to lose this, wants to take her with him to some faraway land. Neither of them belonged in this world in particular, after all, just remnants of a different time and place. Linking fingers, Inigo drags her hand up, and when he finally parts, notes the lack of mark, a lack of being needed once more.

“You should come with me,” Inigo whispers, as if he spoke those words any louder they might be overhead by some other force.

Robin is too good for him, too bright and fierce and loving. She leaps at him, pushing him back against the sheets, and kisses him like the sun exploding. “I can’t,” she murmurs, between breaths, “I can’t leave this place.”

“I know.” And it hurts that he does. A hand grips at his throat, tightening, choking as he repeats those two words. “I know.”

Perhaps he should be proud that he had not cried yet. His eyes burned, as Robin hovered over him, throwing the blankets up. This would be gone, in only several hours. Maybe less, maybe more. As she leaned down, hair fell over her shoulder, tickling his cheek. Running his hand through the locks, tugging at knots until they released, Inigo wanted to have this moment forever.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

Inigo does not give her time to cry, as he rolls, palms flattening against her back as he holds her. Gravitating towards her, a distraction, to ignore how the birds outside began to sing, and how they were mere moments away from leaving each other. His mind supplied a treacherous _for good_ , and he bit back with a _never_.

Gathered in his arms was Robin, wholly alive, hot to the touch. Hand against her cheek once more, turning her up to face him, Inigo was not sure what he was supposed to do without her. Gently, he brushed his fingers along the smooth lines of her face, over the dark lashes brushing her cheeks as she sighed, through her thick hair, and finishing at her lips. And he repeated the motion until she caught his wrist, pulling him down.

Desperation is what he would call it, when they meet for the last time, perhaps. Biting and harsh, as she rolls them once more, hands scratching and nails digging, as if to remind him that she was there once (as if he could forget). Inigo arches under her touch, welcomes the way her teeth dig along his neck. Every so often, he would feel a splash of water against his cheek, but it was getting too hard to tell what was sweat or tears, with how she held his cock in her hands.

Inigo did not want to give in so easily, had wanted to at least be able to lay with her in his arms for a time. Yet Robin was so demanding, so eager, that he couldn't say he didn’t want it either. She held his hands against her breasts as she rode him. Any other time, he might have quipped, tried to make her laugh with something horrible and cheesy and poorly timed. Any other time, Inigo would not let himself get so caught up.

Sitting himself up, he holds her, arms wrapping around her so tight, holding her so rough, he almost fears letting go. Pressing their foreheads together, Inigo simply stares into those lovely eyes of hers, and melts. He was not making love to a woman; Robin was nuclear, a star gone supernova, and he was caught in the blast wave. His bones would liquefy but that was alright, it was just one more thing he does not mind. It had been preferable, even, because he wants to die making love to this woman, to sink into that heat, that brightness, for the rest of his life and beyond and forever.

Robin does not leave his side immediately, no longer shameless and skimping around their tent as she had many other nights, in nothing but her own skin. Sometimes, there had been a shirt, and it had been Inigo’s, as always, buttoned loosely. It left little to the imagination, and Inigo had spent one time chasing after her, insisting on a bath and some clean clothes. He shakes, as he remembers, remembers everything.

“Do you remember when we had made love once, during the war,” he starts, as he rests his head on her shoulder, hands running along her thighs. “And, there had to be an emergency meeting. You held it in our tent.” Inigo laughs, as he remembers waking, and seeing Chrom in the middle of his tent, with Basilio and Flavia leaning around him. “You only wore your cloak.”

“You tried to run away,” she adds on, fingers catching his, running over the ring that sat firmly on his left hand. “You went such a lovely shade of red, too. Almost as red as Chrom.”

“That was _horrifying_.”

Finally, laughter. “And, of course, Flavia told Olivia. I have never been as told off as I had been that time, I might add.”

“Mother can be quite terrifying, sometimes.”

It’s slow and torturous, to force himself to stand, to bathe, to dress. Inigo fills the space, recounting times during the war. Perhaps, some of them had just played out in his head, but Robin responded to each and every one with a story of her own. Reminders, of not just them, but the army. Mad kings and corrupt gods and falling into bed with a woman too great he could not meet her eye. “What will you do, when I am gone?” he whispers, as if afraid of what she might say. “Where will you go?”

She is packing his bag, and her shoulders shake. But her voice, her voice never broke. “Plegia. I can not abandon the throne for much longer.”

“I will come back for you.” A promise, that rings hollow even to his ears. Neither of them knew, if there was a possibility for return. Owain and Severa were too set on letting this timeline live its course in peace. That was nothing to be said for the others, who had either left at the culmination of the war, or had waited to at least see themselves off.

Inigo thought of himself, a runt of a boy at the tender age of four, likely running out into the snow of Regna Ferox without a scarf, and scaring his mother half to death. It was odd, imaging exactly how things would play out, until a point. There might still have been an incident with a beehive at twelve, and taking a sword to the gut at seventeen, but he didn’t know. How he would survive in this life made him scared for himself.

“Look after him,” Inigo says, after a moment. “Look after me. Love me well.”

Robin laughs, hands smoothing the lapels of his coat, checking and double checking that everything secure, that not a thing was missing. “Only if you choose to love me back.”

“How could I not?”

It is the last thing he asks of her, as he ties what was their tent tightly to the horses. Robin kicks dirt at the fire, putting out the flame, before passing over what was left of their tea. Inigo just opts to let it spill, as he kisses her once more, again, it was never enough. Would it ever be enough? he asks himself, as they part. Robin complains about the tea, in that genuine annoyance, and it was the greatest thing he had heard all morning — normalcy.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?” Speech only broken up by the _clip clop_ of the horses, and how she nearly falls asleep in the saddle.

“Know that I was leaving.”

Frowning, Robin finally forces herself to sit up. “I… I had a feeling that you would… soon enough. It didn’t help that I was told by Owain, but not you.” A slight laugh, one that had him shrink away in regret.

He starts, excuse building on his tongue in an instant. “I meant to—”

“I know,” Robin simply interjects, holding up her hand. “I… I know.” 

Inigo does not press her. Simply lets his head fall back, as they ride along the road. Overhead, the sun had broken through the clouds that had threatened it only for a moment, and Inigo wished it would rain. Such a happy moment, as the great Outrealm Gate appears to slowly rise the closer they get. Irony, as dragging himself away from such a simple life, one he had craved so much as a child back in his own time, was not the one for him. Inigo wondered if he should have intervened in not letting his mother and father have him just yet, not in this life, so he would not have felt so pressured to leave.

At the base of the gate, he can see two figures he knew so well, sitting around and not looking at each other. They were the only children left in this life, save for Morgan. And yet, they were no longer children, as Owain spotted them riding over, standing and saying something to Severa. A hardness sat on their faces, as if steeling themselves for any possibilities. Inigo was almost grateful they had opted to leave Morgan behind, too afraid for him. 

“What will you tell him?” Inigo asks, just as they are within earshot. “Morgan, I mean.”

Smiling, and it was the closest thing to genuine Inigo had seen since they had first made this journey. “That his father loves him. And that he should not encourage a little boy in Regna Ferox to go rolling down any hills, lest he knocks his head.”

Whilst Inigo still did not quite understand how Morgan had appeared one day, as they had been wandering close to the coast. Robin had never had a child in the years she had spent with Inigo (at least, Inigo can attest to none of his that he had ever seen). Yet he had never questioned Morgan as his own, when Robin had embraced the young boy. Perhaps, something in the timeline thought they were playing a joke. It would not be the first time that he was treated as an anomaly.

Laughing, Inigo looks over at her again. “Do you think he will understand?” Reassurance. Inigo wants to keep pressing her, to force him to stay. 

“I think Morgan will be quite annoyed you did not ask him to come along. You know how he is.”

“I know.”

Robin dismounts, a smooth movement, and greets Severa as Owain comes to his side. Inigo watches as Robin hugs Severa, saying something quietly to her, and he struggles to take his eyes away. Owain is ashen as he comes closer, looking as if he wasn’t sure if he should apologise, or question why Robin was with him. “It’s fine,” Inigo simply says, holding up a hand. “She knew, anyway.” A wink, and Owain still remains a loss for words. Maybe that was for the better. Inigo was not sure if he could handle anymore declarations no matter how ridiculous they might have been.

“I’m sorry,” Owain says anyway, even though Inigo already knew. “She cornered me.”

“I believe that.” And he did, as Robin finally lets Severa go. “She’s kind of scary, isn’t she?”

“ _Yes._ ” Owain answers so honestly that Inigo coughs into his hand to hide his laughter. 

“Ready?” Severa asks, almost demands, but Inigo can see the slight colour in his face, and how she didn’t quite meet his eye. Perhaps, she was just as afraid as he was. Owain too, skittish as he followed after them, Robin leading the way. And he followed, so easily, as he always had. It was almost crippling, how easy it was to simply follow her lead, and then to expect that tomorrow he would not see the flat planes of her back, guiding him onwards.

Ah, he finally noticed that she was wearing one of his old shirts, tucked into a pair of pants she had recovered from a trunk only a week prior. Her boots clinked, and Inigo thought they sounded sad. Inigo wanted to chide her, for leaving her cloak behind with the horses, tell her she would get cold. Instead, he drops his bag, peels his own jacket off, and drapes it over her shoulders. 

Ahead now, beside each other, with Owain and Severa dragging, he can see her face clearly. “Don’t cry,” he says, as quietly as he can, in the hopes his voice won’t crack. “Smile for me.”

“Promise me you’ll be happy. And you will eat properly,” she swallows, thickly, and Inigo smiles at the reminders he almost expected, “and not drink tea so late at night, and wear your coat when it’s cold. And I stitched the holes in your socks.” A hiccup, that suggests she could have gone further, but with the corners of her mouth turned upward, Robin looks at him. “Don’t be such a chivalrous fool if some girl is in trouble.”

Pressing his lips firmly against her temple, Inigo holds her close. “I am a chivalrous fool, born and bred. That might be something you may never be able to get rid of.”

“You’ll grow up well.”

“Of course. I have only ever had eyes for you.” 

An elbow digs at his elbow at that, and Robin wipes her eyes. “By Naga, you really do make me sound like some cradle-snatcher when you talk like that.”

Looking over at Owain, Robin starts off again, reminding them about eating and furs and to not make any funny first impressions. Who knows where you will end up, she caws, when Owain puffs up at the challenge. I might have to chase after you, you know?! Inigo almost hopes she does, but as he looks over at Severa, he smiles. Severa only offers a small one in return, as if not trusting herself to do anything further.

“We should go, before it starts to get too late.”

Nodding, Inigo manages to drag Owain away from Robin, before they really fought. He could only imagine them coming to blows, and it would not be as horrific as it sounded in his head. Owain was the only one who didn’t cry, either by outright refusal, or simply because he wrapped his arms tightly around Robin, and managed to hold it in. “You’ll be alright,” he hears Robin telling Owain. “No heroics, okay?”

“No promises.” She hits him on the shoulder for that, and pushes them forward.

“Go, go. Before I make you stay.”

Owain walks through first, a wave that can’t quite decide where it wanted to go, and Inigo lingers. Nudging Severa through, he wanted one last moment. To continue dragging this out until it was too late, and he would have to perhaps try to join them tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after. Just not right now. And, judging from the look on Robin’s face, she hoped so too.

Except, she was always several steps ahead, him barely keeping up. Robin pulls off her ring, and places it in his palm. For a moment, he expected her to take it back, to laugh off the notion. Eyeing just how pale the skin on her finger was, from where the ring had been sitting for years, Inigo knew she would not. Robin curls his fingers around the ring, and holds him there.

“Find someone, Inigo,” she says, as if asking him to promise moving on, just like that. “Find someone who will love you just as much as I ever have.”

“What if I don’t?” He croaks, a sudden fear. Being left behind, his father leaving for war, watching his mother fall trying to protect him, barely surviving each night, falling through different worlds just to end up at this one, and to think he nearly lost her right at the end. “What if I was never meant to be happier than this?”

Her hands end up cupping his cheeks. “Inigo, you deserve more than you have ever realised.”

With that, she pushes him forward, and he stumbles back into the gate. The last thing he sees is her wrapping her arms around herself, a watery smile on her face, before the gates swirl around him, too much magic. Reaching out, Inigo had one last moment of wanting to bring her with him, of her pulling him. And then it was gone, just like that.

Lowering his hand, Inigo stares blankly, at where Robin had once stood. It takes a moment, for his mind to control his feet once more, to force him to turn around. Inigo almost doesn’t register the fourth person in the darkness, standing before them, hood low. Robin, he thinks, confusion furrowing his brow. What?

Owain has his sword pointed at the figure, saying something aside to Severa that Inigo doesn’t catch. She’s poised, too, always at the ready, like an arrow drawn taut. Inigo is slow and clumsy, as he reaches for his sword, mind not anywhere in particular. Who is that? his mouth can’t form the words fast enough.

“I would like to request a favour,” says the figure, a deep powerful voice, and yet it was so sad. Inigo wondered if it was loss. 

“Who are you?” Owain demands, sword not wavering as he speaks. 

A pause, and Inigo felt like all the warmth and air had been sucked out of the little space they occupied. He would not even make it on some grand adventure, he thought, sadly. But it meant that Robin would not have to hear of him failing, of falling. That was something he could die knowing.

Rumbling, the man was laughing. An odd sound, one that had Severa lower her sword to. “Who am I…? An odd thing to request.”

Owain’s cheeks colour a ruddy sort of embarrassed, and Inigo pushes through. A surge of something that he couldn’t quite place his finger on filled him, and perhaps it was his chivalry that Robin so dearly loved to tease him over. Bowing low, Inigo did not lower his eyes, seeing nothing under that hood except for a mouth turned upwards. Smiling.

“My lord, we simply wish to pass through.”

“‘My lord’?” Another laugh. “It has been so long since I have been referred to as such.”

“Inigo,” Severa hisses, “what are you doing?”

Looking over his shoulder, Inigo shrugged. No, he did not know what he was doing. There was a manner to the figure, a certain sort of sadness, in the way his shoulders drooped, and his hair hung lank around him. “My name is Inigo,” he began. “I wish for nothing more than to leave this place.”

“You do not remember me, I see.” The man looks at his hands, almost as if he was expecting them to be remembered. “Well, I had approached under the cover of night the last time. I had not expected you to come.”

“Oh!” It was Severa who responded, lowering her weapon. “You! I remember now!”

“You remember?” Inigo isn’t sure who sounded more bewildered, as both he and Owain turn on Severa. 

She colours a certain shade of pink, and huffs. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, being approached by a man asking to have his country saved!”

Laughter, and Inigo thinks it might be embarrassment. The man seems changed then, as if he was swinging between two extremes, and extends a hand. An offer of peace. “I had asked, of course, without expectations.”

“I didn’t agree to the conditions either.”

“Of course.” 

Inigo was not sure who to follow, as Severa crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “I will only go if they join me. Otherwise, let us pass.”

“Severa?!” 

Owain does not join Inigo, in looking wildly between them. Something was amiss, the way Severa chewed her lip; a plan, maybe? Inigo did not doubt Severa, and knew she was far craftier than she let on, and he wanted to be angry at having been played. Especially when he had left a life behind that he had loved. But he could not draw the strength for anger, staring at how she seemed to want this so desperately. Vaguely, he remembered her saying something about forging their own paths, and could see why she took a stranger’s offer so readily.

“Owain?” 

He too, looked like he would consider it. Adventure was stamped across him, and travelling to some place, they were bound to find it anyway. It must have been the appeal of being a saviour, and not relying on being saved. Inigo wanted to protest, to say that they could perhaps return to their world, and find that times had changed. That the fall of Grima in one life would affect the rest. 

There was no arguing with them.

“Severa, I will join you.”

Inigo dropped his head. Hands shaking, he just wanted comfort and quiet, a warm bed, a warm body beside him. There were no promises from this man, of such a life. _Save my country_ , he asked, as if Inigo could force himself to go through it all once again. Inigo had barely been able to pass through a quarter of his life, having seen two full scale wars. And now, they wanted him to see a third. Someone was laughing at him, surely.

“Inigo…?”

There was no choice here. Inigo looks back, between where Owain and Severa stood, a fearful hope on their faces, as if he should choose either way. Inigo stared at the blackness behind them, where there was no more Ylisse, no more Robin, and sighed. “I will go too.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually started pre-feif and then ofc the reveal that the fea kids would appear had me rly sour because i felt cheated on. my 2D boyfriend could have a daughter (who i love, but thats not the point), with someone other than my MU. who does he think he is? ex-husband, that's who. 
> 
> flexing my inter dimensional rights with this fic
> 
> using robin bc like she's only there for a bit otherwise in case anyone cared my MU was called grainne


End file.
